Meadow
by babybluecas
Summary: "Does that make you my knight in shining armor?"


Blood dried out in cascades on Dean's face sufficiently blocks the view in his left eye. What the other, severely swollen one tells him is that he's in a dense forest; the sun rays barely make it all the way down here through the leaves. He must have blacked out for a minute, right after he beheaded the vampire - hopefully _after_, hopefully the strong arms carrying him full bridal style belong to Cas and not to the vamp.

Either way, it feels awkward, and he tries to move around, get them to let him down, but his head is too dizzy to rise, his words come out mumbled.

"I'm glad you're awake, Dean," says a voice right above Dean's ear, and with a relief he recognizes it as Cas's. A wave of embarrassment at the memory in the years to come always trumps up being sucked out dry.

"What happened?" he mutters, or at least attempts to - he's not certain if Cas can understand him.

"Shhh, don't talk."

Dean complies, and decides to assess his injuries in the meantime. It would be easier to concentrate if he was walking on his own feet, instead of having his nose tucked by Cas's collar - in the mixture of sweat and dirt he can smell the distinctive scent of cheap soap and cologne. On the other hand, his head has probably barely dodged a concussion and his ankle appears to be sprained, so at least he's got a good excuse not to move his nose an inch.

They don't travel for much longer; quickly the surroundings appear brighter, the forest thins and soon the sun spills all over the place.

"Here will be good," Cas comments, slowly straying off the path. "There we go."

To Dean's disappointment - and relief - Cas lays him down on the grass next to the shimmering brook. The ground is warm from the sun, which envelopes Dean's sore face. The huge rock is hard beneath his back, but Cas folded his jacket and placed it under his head, which is awfully nice of him.

"Tell me I didn't lose my eye," Dean moans, touching his fingers to the bloodbath on the left side of his face. At least he can speak again, he notices cheerily; his head is fine.

"You didn't lose your eye," Cas answers, audibly amused.

"Dude, you're only saying that because I asked you to."

Dean's concern seems to entertain Cas even further.

"You didn't lose your eye," he repeats, approaching closer. "It's just a cut. Let me clean it up."

At first the wet cloth pressed to his face sends a sharp shot of pain, but he gets used to it quickly. Cas makes gentle passes around his eye to get rid of blood, his other palm cups Dean's cheek to keep his head from moving - his soft caress sooths the ache. He takes it slow not to cause Dean more harm, inch by inch washing blood and dirt away. It's a cut below the eyebrow that was the source of the flow, but it's dried up and closed now.

"Okay, open now," Cas commands and Dean slowly does.

The guy wasn't lying: Dean didn't lose his eye, which is good. It's just almost as swollen as the other one - he must look truly beautiful. Cas looks a little bit better than him, bloodied and bruised, but at least not as puffy. His clothes are all covered in mud and, assumingly, Dean's blood, his shirt has a sleeve torn off, revealing the muscles of his arm.

"Thanks, Cas." Dean's smile stretches his aching skin, but the one received in return is worth the pain.

There's still a lot of dirt to be removed from his face and Dean doesn't protest when Cas keeps going. It feels so good when his face is so close, his palm never leaves the side of his neck, thumb rubbing tenderly along his jaw.

They both remain quiet, enjoying the silence disturbed only by the rustle of water and the singing of the birds above. Not until Cas finishes and steps away does Dean look around the meadow. They are surrounded by green in all possible shades, spattered with patterns of colorful flowers that get lost in the grass which grows taller around the stream. Its water glistens in the sun, its surface nearly white and blinding with the reflected light.

"Whoah, this is some Disney shit," Dean comments, as a butterfly passes between them - now that's overdoing it, he thinks.

"I assume you're the Prince in distress then?" Cas jokes, reaching to the water to wash his own face.

"Does that make you my Knight in Shining Armor?" Dean shoots with a grin, without thinking first. He shuts up quickly and, scratching his neck, he stares at Cas, awaiting his reaction.

Cas's soft laugh turns to a nervous titter then dies down.

"I understood that reference," he admits shamefully after a beat and looks away, "but…"

"But what?"

Castiel's eyes rise up to Dean's, uncertain. He's visibly fighting with his thoughts, trying to decide whether they're on the same page with Dean. Dean, himself, is not sure which page, or even book, he is on, so he waits patiently for Cas to decide - he's ready to jump in wherever he wants him.

"I think I…" Cas begins slowly, "I know how those stories are supposed to end?"

The question mark at the end is meant to lessen the blow, but Dean doesn't perceive any blow at all. He goes quiet for a while, mulling his answer over, but then he decides on a different one.

"Tell me," he asks, his lips curl up shily against his will. The next words turn out harder to spit out, heavy on his tongue with a taste so foreign, but he still gives them a try. "Because I've never heard a story about a Prince and a Knight. Tell me how it ends."

For a split second Cas's eyes grow wide with surprise, his jaw nearly drops, but he composes himself, mustering a lopsided smile. On his knees he moves in closer, reaching with the wetted cloth to Dean's chin again, purely to give himself an excuse for that touch and for that closeness.

But Dean doesn't need an excuse anymore. If he did, he would blame it on the growing bump on his head. As he pulls himself up on his elbow, he holds his breath for the dizzyness not to come back. He ends up tugging Cas by the front of his shirt, instead. The man is malleable, he follows the lead, leans in all the way down, until his lips land on Dean's. They're damp with cold water from the brook, and the bottom lip's split at the center - those are the things Dean notices first, but soon the sensations disappear within the softness and sweetness of the kiss.

Cas isn't shy for long, but still he is tender, as he licks his way inside. His fingers rake the short hair on Dean's temple, carefully avoiding the hurting spots. It's relaxing more than it's hot, despite the soreness in both of their bodies, it couldn't feel better.

When they break, Cas's eyes glisten with the water's reflection.

"The story," he starts slowly, "I was gonna say it ends with a kiss."

"Oh, really?" Dean tsks, shaking his head. "That's too bad."

Cas doesn't buy his fake disappointment and sends him a shit-eating grin.

"Is it?" he plays along.

"Yeah, because now we're gonna need a sequel."

Huffing out a chuckle, Cas leans in again, to lay a brief kiss on Dean's mouth.

"I'm completely fine with that," he purrs, stroking Dean's hair. At once his expression changes as he furrows his brow, lips pressed into a thin line. "There's just this one thing that doesn't add up."

"What is it?"

Dean almost jumps up in sudden concern, but then Cas beams at him again, a smile even wider, all teeth and gums, like Dean's never seen him before.

"Well," the man tilts his head to the side, "I thought you always said Disney is for chicks."

Dean exhales audibly and lifts his hand to punch Cas in the shoulder.

"Shut up!" he snaps, hardly holding back a playful smile. "You've totally just ruined it, we're moving."

There's still Dean's ankle left to check out and Cas doesn't stop smiling for a moment while he does it. At last they can leave the meadow, Dean holding onto Cas's arm, stumbling slowly through the woods, hoping to find their way out before the dusk.

"If you tell Sam about it, I swear, I'm turning you into a toad."


End file.
